


Berrirose

by tardisandjam



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Feels, I have a lot of feels, Winchester Feels
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-08
Updated: 2013-02-11
Packaged: 2017-11-28 14:31:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 3,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/675450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tardisandjam/pseuds/tardisandjam
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mini drabbles about Henry Winchester and the woman he fell in love with.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Purple Lilac

**Author's Note:**

> I'm all over the place with feels, aren't I? Between the Alfie feels and now Henry. 
> 
> The title comes from the flower, which in the language of the flowers, means "Choose your destiny, I won't give up my promise, I'll love you forever". So. There we go. It was almost Arbutus, Rainflower, or Amaranth, but I thought that this flower fit better. 
> 
> Each chapter is named after a different flower.

He sees her from across the room after one of the group-wide meetings, a champagne glass balanced between slender fingers, nails painted the same ruby red as the lipstick she wore. She’s speaking to Josie Sands, obviously amused, head thrown back in a laugh, dyed blonde curls lying against the red and white dress she has on, a matching hat on her head. He turns to Ivan and asks who she is, never taking his eyes off her.

Ivan laughs, a deep, throaty chuckle as he pats Henry’s shoulder. “Why not ask her yourself, Winchester? I don’t think she bites, much.”

Henry shoots him a faintly condescending look. “No, really, what’s her name?” He watches her reach for a strawberry, biting into it.

“That’s Miss Sarah Carter. Two levels above you, and I think she mentioned she’s only on leave for two weeks.”

“On leave?”

“Yes, on leave.”

Henry looks her over once more and notices the slight bulge on her hip. “Oh. On leave, I see.” He hesitates, unsure of how to proceed.

Ivan gives him a gentle shove in the direction of the two women. “Go on, talk to her. Worst that can happen is that she ignores you.”

“Or shoot me.”

“That too.”

Henry gulps and takes a step forward. He watches her laugh and place the glass on the table, disappearing in the small group in seconds. There’s no real thought at that moment- he darts after her, following her out the door onto the streets. It takes him a moment to spot her, but the red hat perched atop her blonde curls acts like a beacon.

He registers that it’s cold and pulls off his coat, moving to walk beside her. Nervously he stops her, ignoring the puzzled look on her face. “You look cold, miss.” He offers his coat to her.

She stares at him for a moment before taking the proffered coat and wrapping it around her body. “That’s sweet of you to offer your coat, sir.” She looks him over, and he feels almost naked under her gaze. “You’re Henry Winchester, correct? Josie pointed you out earlier.”

There’s a small, embarrassed laugh from the man. “Yes, I’m Henry. And I believe you’re Miss Carter, am I correct?”

She smiles and nods at him. “I suppose I’m not the only one asking about others, then.” The grin on her face is positively teasing and devious, causing the man to flush red. “I’m joking, Mr. Winchester, really. Merely teasing, that’s all.”

He loves the sound of her voice, her accent, the sweet little giggles that escape her mouth. “Please, allow me to walk you home.” Henry notices the slight sparkle in her eyes, smiling. “And I’d rather you call me Henry.”

“I would be delighted to have you walk me back. And if you insist upon that, I must insist you call me Sarah.”

“Sarah.” He repeats her name. “It’s a pleasure, Miss Sarah.” He offers her his arm. After a moment she takes it, her hand warm against his arm.

Sarah beams up at him. “The pleasure is mine.” 


	2. Lavender Rose

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Winchester, a Carter, a bit of rain, and Casablanca.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to just post what I can now. I'm quite enjoying this.

She feels safe leaning into him, she feels happy. She hasn’t felt like this since the war started- there were more important things to do, she had to help. She had lied about her age in order to help, telling them that she was already twenty one when she was only eighteen. Days spent filing papers, escorting officers, taking down notes or whatever was asked of her- she would’ve rather been fighting, but it wasn’t allowed. It was making her crazy- ten years of training with her father was going to waste.

Henry smiles down at her, breaking her thoughts as she smiles back. He’s the sort of man she never thought she’d end up ever seeing; then again, she never thought she’d see anybody. Their hands are intertwined, resting in her lap, the charcoal gray of his suit jacket contrasting against the soft camel of her coat and the dark tweed blazer she has on beneath. “Are you enjoying the film?” he whispers softly, head leaning towards hers, eyes flicking from the screen to her. The blonde locks almost glows in the dim light, he notices, a golden halo around her head.

“It’s lovely, Henry,” she murmurs back, resting a head on his shoulder. He smells like cologne and books, safety, security, stability. She likes the smell. He stiffens once he feels the weight of her head but soon relaxes, his cheek against her hair.

\---

When they step outside the rain has started again, beating staccato taps against the pavement. They’re both startled by it, but luckily Sarah had the sense to bring an umbrella with her, the two walking back under its shade. It’s rather ineffective in the end- they both end up soaked by the time they reach her little rented room, and they hand the umbrella to the doorman instead.

He starts to whistle As Time Goes By and she sways back and forth, reaching for him. She moves his hand to her waist and takes his other one, the two dancing in the rain to his whistling. 


	3. Wormwood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They don't say goodbye- she hates the very word.

He waits for her at the next meeting almost impatiently, a second glass of champagne resting on the table in front of him. A quick glance at his watch proves that only a minute’s passed. He bites his lip. She never said she wouldn’t be here, and so he’s here. Four more dates they’d gone on, and he was really taken with her. Henry scans the crowd, distracted enough to not notice Ivan stepping beside him.

“Who are you looking for, Winchester?”

“Sar- Miss Carter. She was here today, right?”

Ivan frowns. “No. Didn’t she mention it to you? Her train leaves at one thirty- fifteen minutes from now.”

Henry bolts, leaving a startled Ivan behind. “Taxi!”

\---

She sits on the benches, waiting, her bag next to her. She hears the whistle for boarding and stands, dusting off her skirt. Goodbyes were difficult things for her, always had been since Daniel Carter had died. Goodbye had been the last thing she’d said to him, and she’s refused to say it since then. She sighs and pulls the ticket out of her pocket, grabbing her bag.

“Sarah!” comes a cry, out of breath, desperate. She stops and turns, scanning the crowd. “Sarah!”

“Henry?” she calls back, spotting the man as he bursts through the crowd, coming to a stop in front of her. “What are you doing, Henry?”

“I-“ He stops, catching his breath. “I couldn’t let you leave without saying goodbye.”

She stiffens. “I don’t do well with goodbyes.”

“Then make it a see you later, right?” There’s hope in his voice as he reaches for her hand. There’s another whistle from the train- only a few moments left before they left. “Right?” he presses forward.

“Yes, definitely a see you later, then.” She can’t help how her heart swells slightly, a small smile gracing ruby red lips. “I’ll come back as soon as I can, Henry, I promise.”

“Final call for the one thirty to New York! Final call!”

Henry glances at the conductor then at Sarah. “Take care of yourself, alright?”

“I’ll write you whenever I can, Henry, I promise.” She leans in and kisses his cheek, taking off towards the train, handing her ticket to the conductor and disappearing inside.

He smiles and puts his hand to where her lips had been, staring at the train. He can see her through one of the windows, looking out at him. A gloved hand presses against the glass as the train starts to move, Henry jogging alongside it, waving, smiling until the platform runs out and he’s left waving at the distance. 


	4. Letter Interlude 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Words can barely convey the true depth of worry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Occasionally there will be little interlude with just their letters to each other. This is the first.

_Dear Henry,_

_I’m writing this quickly as I can. I’ve been asked to participate in a different branch- it’s all very hush hush, I can’t tell you much, but I wish I could. If at all possible I’ll send letters, and possibly photographs if I can. I haven’t the faintest idea where I’m going right now, but I promise I’ll try to keep myself safe. No guarantees that I’ll come back, but I’m going to try._

_I’m going to entrust this letter to a very good friend of mine, and hope that it gets to you safely. He’ll be able to get any letters you send to me without getting caught._

_Take care of yourself, Henry. I’ll write when it’s safe._

_Sarah_

_\---_

_Dear Sarah,_

_I received your letter today and needless to say I’m worried. Did you need to say yes to the new branch? Is it even safe? What if you get captured or tortured, Sarah, did you think of that? You could die. You could die and I wouldn’t know at all. I’d see your name on a list of casualties one day and find out why you never came back._

_Sarah, you need to come back. We didn’t say goodbye. We said see you later, and I intend to see you again._

_Please be safe, Sarah. Please._

_Henry_


	5. Azalea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Photographs are worth a thousand words- in this case, a thousand words left unsaid.

He writes to her constantly, after meetings, in the morning, during lunch, while at work. He wonders how she’s doing, what she’s doing. He wants to know if she’s safe, most of all, but he’s scared to find out what’s really going on.

The others try to calm him, but they don’t do a very good job of it. Henry takes to working later and later, writing until the early morning and only receiving a few hours of sleep. It scares him and the others how little it seems that he cares now.

He receives a letter two weeks after the first one from Sarah, ripping it open and reading quickly.

_Dear Henry,_

_I’m doing alright now, in unsafe territory but I’m alright. Don’t be worried, alright? I can handle myself quite well, thank you, and there’s no need for you to panic. I’m just doing a bit of snooping, far as I can tell._

_I’m lying, really. I’m just stationed here for now. I’ll have Rufus take this letter as soon as I’m done- I only got yours a moment ago from him, and you are reacting far too sharply. This isn’t a normal branch, Henry, this is an associate of the Men of Letters, really. They want me to take care of some supernatural instances out here- they believe that there may be some demonic activity behind this._

_Alright, Rufus is getting antsy. I’m going to finish this up soon._

_Oh, and Henry, I had a thought. Once this war is over, we should go dancing, properly, you and me._

_Sarah_

_P.S. I was able to slip a photo in the envelope. It’s a little old, but it’s one of the few photos I have on file._

_ _

He smiles and holds the letter to his chest, eyes closed in relief. She was alright. And she wanted to go dancing after the war- he’d take her, he would. He looks at the picture with a smile and puts it in his wallet, holding it to his lips for a moment before putting it away.

He sits down to write a reply, biting his lip. How should he even respond to this? It takes him three tries to get his first paragraph right, and even then he dislikes the way it sounds.

_Dear Sarah,_

_None of your letter was particularly reassuring until the end of the second paragraph. But just because it’s an associate doesn’t mean I’m going to stop worrying. Demonic activity? They want you to deal with that? Sarah, you aren’t a hunter (which I’m glad of), and they can’t make you into one in a few weeks. You’ll end up with your throat slit- or worse, possessed by a demon. Please rethink this. I’m sure there are other capacities that you can work in and still contribute to the war effort, Sarah._

_You could even come here, to Illinois. I’m not sure what you’d do, but there’s got to be something._

_It’s a date, Sarah. You and me, and dancing, and a drink or two. We’ll dance until I need to carry you home._

_Henry_


	6. Thorn-apple

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He waits by the mailbox. She gets shot at. That sounds about right.

Three weeks pass without a letter and it worries him. He has no idea who to contact to get some information, no person to ask. He waits by the mailbox every afternoon, and every afternoon the mailman simply shakes his head. He panics, sends more letter by the week, fear consuming him. His concentration is fractured during his studies, and he ends up needing a smoke (which he’s never needed before).

He spends a good deal of time staring at her photo, praying desperately that she is safe.

\---

She presses herself against a tree, terrified. There are gunshots so near to her, her ears ringing. She had been infiltrating a meeting, posing as an assistant to one of their undercover agents. It had been going well, but she’d gotten too antsy and took charge. Now that agent was dead, neck snapped by one of the demons.

The crack of a branch alerts her to another’s presence, and ten years of a hunter’s training starts to kick in. She remembers the exorcism her father taught her, she has her gun in her hand and pointing at the other person’s face.

It’s Rufus, hands held high. “Sarah, it’s Rufus. We’ve known each other since you got here. You live in the third apartment on the fourth block on the second floor.”

She frowns. “Christo.” There’s no reaction except a small smirk from the other man. “I just had to check.”

“Smart. Come on, the demons retreated.”

“Let me guess, you put up a salt line?”

“Darn right.”

\---

He receives her letter a week later, a sigh of ill disguised relief escaping him. The paper smells like burning wood and gunpowder, the black ink smudged in some places. He can tell she was writing in a hurry- the words are occasionally hard to decipher, but he manages to read it.

_Dear Henry,_

_My sincere apologies for not writing for a month- but didn’t I say that I’d write when I could? This is the only chance I’ve really had time to write. My cover was blown today, and I’ll probably need to move again, perhaps even dye my hair again. Though, it’s not like a difference would be made. The soot and ash darkens my hair anyways._

_I can tell you’re worrying about me. I’ve received all your letters, I think, and they grow increasingly impatient. Didn’t anyone ever tell you that patience is a virtue, Henry? I’m only teasing, but you needn’t fear so for me. I’m a competent fighter and I’m sure I’m intelligent enough to be able to outsmart a few demons, don’t you think?_

_I’m glad you accepted my idea of a dance, though. We could have them play As Time Goes By. Did you know I’ve found myself humming that song at times? It makes me think of our dance in the rain. It rained here a week ago and I stood outside and pretended I was dancing. It was worth the cold and wet._

_Take care,_

_Sarah_


	7. Viscaria

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He sees the sky blue car across the street, but it's not the car he pays attention to.

He’s leaving one of the meetings a few months later when he spots the car pulling up across the street. It’s sky blue, and a lovely model, but he notices the driver with an expression of overwhelming joy. It’s Sarah. He wants to dash across the street, but he knows he’ll be hit.

To him she looks beautiful. Her hair is rich brown now, and he thinks he prefers it that way. White gloved hands push the door open, and she’s wrapped in a camel colored coat, and she’s smiling right at him with joy and excitement. He can hear her slam the door and she runs across the street, jumping into his arms, the two hugging tightly, laughing.

“Sarah…” He pulls away to really look at her. Her cheeks are flushed red with excitement, eyes sparkling. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m on leave again.” She giggles stupidly, cupping his cheek with a gloved hand. “You owe me a dance once this war’s over, Mr. Winchester.”

“Why not now? We can go dancing right now.” He spins her in a circle and she laughs again.

“We can wait. Then we’ll really have something to celebrate.” She tugs his hand gently. “Come on. We can drive back to my rooms for a bit to catch up. I think we need to.”

He follows her across the street, grinning giddily.

\---

She makes him tea and toast and they sit on the couch, Sarah leaning against the armrest, her feet in his lap. She tells him about missions she takes while he listens, cringing and sighing and trying to talk her out of it. Of course she still doesn’t listen, but he keeps asking until she starts to ignore him.

“Sarah?”

“Hm?”

He moves her feet off his lap, placing the cup on the table and offering a hand to her. “Let’s dance.”

She laughs and looks at him sweetly. His jacket’s tossed over one of the chairs in her kitchen, his tie is undone and lying on the couch, his shirt untucked, his shoes shucked off by the door. Sarah takes his hand, putting her things down and standing, allowing him to wrap her in a tight embrace as they sway back and forth to no music. 


	8. Begonia

When she leaves again he fears for her. She tells him that they’re sending her into Germany, that she shouldn’t be telling him this, but that she trusts him. She kisses him on the lips this time and he almost turns scarlet on the train platform. He can see her through the windows, staring out at him. This time he’s given her a picture of the two of them, and she keeps it close to her heart.

He goes seven months without a word from her. He knows writing is impossible, but he writes anyways, for her to read when she comes home. He puts them in a box, sealed and dated, waiting. He tells her about moving up a level, how one of his friends was killed, how his parents came to visit and asked about her picture in his wallet. He tells her he loves her and that he misses her, but those letters often are burned. He won’t tell her how he feels, not just yet.

At night he takes out her picture and talks to it, often worrying. He has a bad feeling about all of this, and he wishes he could protect her from all of this.

\---

She keeps the rag over her mouth, coughing. The building is filling quickly with smoke and she needs to get out, now. Rufus is dead on the floor by the door, throat slit. She’d been forced to kill him, he’d been possessed and at this point all that mattered was self preservation. Her mission is a failure and now she needs to get out.

She manages to get out to the fire escape and climb down, taking off. She has no idea which way she needs to go at this point, she just needs to move. The sound of people seeing the smoke from the building approaches and she starts to run, desperate.

She’s spotted, though, and they take off after her. It takes ducking in alleys and hiding behind junk to lose them, fear pumping through her veins. This is quickly becoming more and more dangerous- but it already was to begin with.

Part of her regrets ever allowing herself to be talked into agreeing to move to this sector.

\---

He gets a letter one day, several stamps on it, and he tears it open hopefully. It’s not what he wants to see- it’s the exact opposite. He only really sees a few sentences of it before he sits down on the couch.

_… Sarah Carter presumed dead…_

_… requested for Henry Winchester to be alerted…_

He tries not to cry, placing the letter face down on the table. He can feel himself shattering piece by piece, holding back even as tears slide down his face.

\---

She hikes and takes refuge in the small little villages along the way. She wonders if they take her in out of pity- she looks rather dirty, she hasn’t showered or anything in days. Her body aches from the constant moving, but she knows if she stays too long it can be dangerous. Because of that she moves out after two, three days tops, hiking and climbing and hoping she gets somewhere safe soon.

She might need to call in a favor at this point, she’s desperate and hopeless. She manages to find a phone and makes the call, getting someone to sneak her back into safe territory. All she wants now is to get out. She’s tired, she’s done. 


End file.
